TWIN THE TRANSPARENT

The lines go in,
above all, else,
we will not believe.
We do not need eyes
to see, within all
lies beauty.

We are small,
living constellations,
in tune with
inner vibrations.
We are free. In
rights of empathy.

Bleed,
like rivers, run,
and hands upon
the clouds.
Take root and bear fruit,
make witness of the sun.

Twin the transparent,
wind as wings, until
the final light speaks
we are done.